Hesitation
by xichxliebexdichx
Summary: Why do Dean and Castiel have to pretend their profound bond isn't deeper? Sitting under a starry sky, an angel and human traverse pent-up emotions and unspoken words. Hopeful they won't hesitate to confess.


**A/N:** For those of you fabulous people reading my Creek fic, **I have not abandoned it.** Full explanations will ensue when I find my notebook and type up the twentieth chapter I owe you all. ;] I promise, just because I've delved into an old fandom again, South Park has not left my heart, and I'll be returning to both Second Chance and my K-Squared, The Puppet Master.

In regards to this Supernatural fic, warnings include naughty words, hard-ons, and angels getting with humans. All kinds of sacrilege. My favorite. This is an entry for a contest on tumblr. If you bother me there (jk, I'd love it, really), you'll find I'm seriously obsessed with SPN right now. Seriously. It's dangerous, I'm going to get my heart broken.

**Disclaimers:** I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Ben Edlund and I would be hardcore slashing Dean and Cas on the show for real. Also, look forward to literal gayness. Another of my favorite things (~actually honest this time).

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><p>Castiel was laying on his back on the grass at Dean's side, shadowy black wings splayed on the cool, damp ground underneath him, stretched to their full magnificence. Dean had once commented on how they felt like silk, but almost insubstantial, as if they were only giving the illusion of being soft, his human mind imagining the feeling of the feathers between his fingers to make up for the lack of them. Castiel had commented that they were hypersensitive to touch. But even now, as they sat in quiet comfort under the stars, the dark blonde thought he could feel them brush against his back. They did this often, sitting on the hillside near school in the evening, just after sunset, when the stars came out from hiding and decorated their sky with pinpricks of light. It had been Castiel's idea, years ago, after he'd left the house during a fight his siblings were waging with each other. After all of these years, Michael and Lucifer still fought over the stupidest things, and the whole house suffered for it. Naturally, the subject of most of the arguments – their father – was never home, and their mother had been long gone. Castiel had never even met his mother. Dean was the first person he'd ever confessed this to.<p>

"You know what makes me sick?" Dean asked conversationally, sighing and shifting to lean back on his elbows, angling his head slightly to watch his best friend sideways. Castiel turned his head to stare attentively at him, curious. "Ke$ha's crappy music," he answered with an amused smirk.

Castiel smiled vaguely, for some reason having expected a much deeper answer. Perhaps it was because they ended up having some very mature discussions on nights like this. "She is not Led Zeppelin," he replied mildly, agreeing. Not that he liked Led Zeppelin much, but he knew Dean was a big fan. He had been so thrilled when Castiel had found him that original LP record for his birthday last year, after all. Cas practically had to sell his soul for it. "But you don't _have_ to listen to her," the teenager with the messy dark hair added reasonably, too-blue eyes unwavering from Dean's.

Rolling his eyes, Dean gave a single nod. "Yeah, okay. Except in public places, including the goddamned grocery store, in the halls, oh, and don't forget in the bathroom," he argued, grimacing.

"That was only once, Dean," Castiel reminded him with another faint smile. He watched the oldest Winchester look quickly at him before looking the opposite direction when he said his name. Was it just hope, or did his friend get a little embarrassed when he said his name? The angel looked away as well, hoping he had given nothing away himself. "And Ash was only doing it to hear you 'freak out,' Dean," he added truthfully, saying his name again simply because he liked the taste of it on his tongue.

If Cas didn't stop saying his name like that, Dean was going to have a fit. Only Sammy said his name as often as that, and even then, his little brother's urgency didn't compare to the fond way Castiel seemed to say it. He wondered if the angel had any idea what the sound of his name coming from him did to his chest. "Ash is such a smart-ass," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder to check if Castiel's wing was about to be crushed under his weight. The brunette shifted a little, sitting up some himself, wings folding up again to be out of the way. Dean smiled at him, laying flat and securing his folded hands behind his head comfortably.

Castiel chose to roll over onto his stomach and push himself up onto his elbows to see Dean better. "…Why do you do that?" he asked quietly, his tone barely uncertain, something he was good at. Dean had learned early on that Castiel's level of curiosity was impossible to discern in his tone, since he asked everything in practically the same voice: an impossibly innocent, somehow wise tone that conveyed confusion and curiosity and knowing far too much for someone his age. Dean was finally able to tack an explanation onto this odd trait when they'd turned twelve, when Castiel had revealed his wings to him one summer night. Dean had asked to touch them, and Castiel had hesitantly allowed him to, holding back uncharacteristic giggles. "Why do you say trivial things when you clearly have much more important things to say to me?" Castiel elaborated, his articulate tongue forming the words carefully.

Dean was speechless. Now, Dean was infamous for his quick remarks, his automatic attitude, but Castiel was equally infamous for being the only person that could leave his wit hanging limply in the back of his throat with nowhere to go. Only Cas could steal his words from him. "W-what?" Dean stammered eventually, helplessly looking up at the paler boy with a small blush on his cheeks. Could angels read minds? Oh shit, they could, couldn't they? But Cas said he wouldn't do that to him! Dean frowned slightly, realizing the blue-eyed teenager wouldn't be asking if he had just decided to pluck the information from his head. "What're you talking about, Cas?"

A small thrill went through the brunette at his nickname – the first nickname he'd ever received, and from Dean to boot – and he tilted his head thoughtfully. "I am referring to the fact that your facial expression is similar to the one you made when you would not tell Sam you didn't want him dating that girl Ruby. You told me that you could not do it because you didn't want to 'break his little heart,'" Castiel explained, using Dean's terminology. His mouth was shaped between a frown and nothing at all, a slight curve of his distracting lips that Dean's green eyes couldn't help but lock onto.

"I, uh," the dark blonde mumbled eloquently, blinking dumbly, caught. He crossed his legs for something to do in his discomfort, acting as if he wasn't also hiding a growing erection at the vanilla scent wafting off of the angel's too-close body. It didn't help that his button-down was opened at least two buttons already, showing just a bit of his smooth skin. He'd been trying to get himself away from the idea of wanting his best friend in a horny, desperate, teenaged way, thinking that Castiel honestly deserved better than that, better than him. Besides, the kid hardly even had a sexuality. Cas had to be one of those weird, asexual types he'd heard about in health class last year. Dean personally thought it was impossible, but then he realized how unresponsive Castiel was to anyone that hit on him, guys _or_ girls. He'd turned down two people in the last year at least. There had been times he'd thought the shorter boy had looked at him "like that," when he was changing in one of their rooms or at school, or even just when they were sitting in class. But Dean had convinced himself these longing looks were not longing in the sense that Castiel longed for _him_, but in the sense that the angel longed for his humanity. They had talked about this several times, Castiel always confessing with his quiet, gruff voice that he wished he were more human. Talks like those had always left Dean feeling special, but small somehow, and maybe more empathetic than sympathetic. He himself was having trouble identifying as anything but confused lately.

For years, he'd ogled boobs, grinned at glossy red lips, and fantasized about busty Asian girls in bed. He watched porn like any other red-blooded male, but when he'd let his mind wander to focus more on the men in the videos, he got concerned. Dean had hoped it was an easily satisfied need, but he found it was harder to get off to videos with women in them when he'd found ones that had guys resembling his best friend, often with other men, instead. He couldn't tell anyone, because who would understand? He didn't know any other guys that—well—that liked guys, and he certainly wasn't about to tell Cas, even if he was an asexual angel.

"Cas, I… I don't…" he tried helplessly, feeling guilty for keeping secrets from his best friend. But when your wet dreams involved said best friend, you were typically more hesitant to divulge such information as even your uncertain sexuality. Dean knew he deserved to know, because even if Castiel learned he liked guys, he wouldn't stop being his best friend. The problem was, Castiel would know that wasn't the part eating at him the most, and then, in that terrible, magical, impossible _Castiel_ way of his, he'd wring out of Dean that he was the subject of his fantasies.

It was what Dean feared the most: losing Cas to something stupid like a severe crush on him. They'd been friends for a good… what was it now, ten years? Holy shit. He'd known the angel since second grade. They'd been best friends since then, both on the unusual end of the social spectrum, and Dean more than once having to hunt down someone that had tormented Castiel. Even after learning the brunette's celestial background (or maybe more so thanks to the knowledge), Dean had felt the need to protect him. Even if someday Castiel decided to abandon him for better things, Dean would defend him with his life. Maybe that was why it hurt so much to be so torn about telling him and keeping this… profound bond they already had the way it was: intact.

"Dean," Castiel murmured meaningfully, looking for some kind of response other than a blank stare directed at his mouth. At least it gave him free range to try and count the slightly younger boy's freckles for the billionth time. He often watched Dean's face, and when he could, his shoulders, for his freckles. It fascinated and enthralled him to see them appear in sunlight and fade as the day came to a close, see how they danced with his laughter or his dramatic facial expressions. Castiel had gotten to one-hundred-and-three once, with some difficulty, as Dean shifted in his sleep and moved his shirt around, covering up his smooth shoulders and making Castiel's personal mission nearly impossible. Yes, he watched the taller boy sleep sometimes, as they shared a bed whenever they spent the night at each other's houses. If Dean had ever caught him, he'd surely panic and think he was "creepy as hell," and he'd surely feel terrible, but Castiel couldn't help admiring the Winchester boy. He was hard-working, and loyal, and stubborn, and maybe a little self-righteous, but what human wasn't? Even his siblings were self-righteous.

Whenever Castiel needed help, Dean was there. Whenever he found himself overcome with emotions – especially the painful ones – Dean was there to comfort or encourage him. Whenever Castiel couldn't be at home, Dean welcomed him into his house and his room without question. The need was mutual, Castiel hoped. Whenever Dean needed him, no matter what for, Castiel went to him. Whenever Dean had trouble at school, Castiel gladly tutored him to get him up to speed. Whenever Dean was suffering over John Winchester's mistakes and choices, he was there to remind him that he was not his father. The angel had never experienced the feelings he had around Dean Winchester with anybody else, family or otherwise. He loved Dean, and even his somewhat naïve mind knew that word was perfect. He had long known he was sexually interested in the human, having more than once pleasured his body with thoughts of Dean playing in his head, but due to his nature, it was harder for him to understand others' desires, even in regards to himself. He knew he wanted Dean to love him the same way, wanted him the way his body wanted Dean's in all its tanned, freckled glory, and if human films and music were any indication, it was _okay_ for him to want these things. But he had no idea how to convey such things successfully, or even if Dean would react positively. If he was to be rejected, Castiel did not think he could survive. Dean may not know it, but Castiel had become dependent on him. Angel or not, Castiel needed his human to live.

The best part was that Dean felt the same. But of course, Castiel did not know this yet.

"Dean," the dark-haired boy repeated more roughly, a note of frustration in his voice. Angels were not known to be impatient, but just as Castiel left Dean speechless; Dean managed to draw out emotions in Castiel most angels never bothered with. "Please answer me."

Finally meeting his gaze, the human cleared his throat awkwardly, moving his hands from behind his head to rest on his stomach instead. It had to be weird that Castiel's formal speech mannerisms were a turn-on. "I don't know what you're talking about, man," Dean avoided, daring to tear his eyes away and look at the sky. He flinched in surprise when black shadows blocked his view of the stars, and jumped slightly when impossibly soft feathers brushed against his cheek, urging him to turn his face back to his best friend. He couldn't disobey, closing his eyes at the wonderfully gentle touch of Castiel's wings, and letting a hand rest against his other cheek, cupping his face lightly. His skin tingled, heat bubbling in his belly. When he opened his eyes again, he could see a strange, unfamiliar hurt in the angel's sapphire eyes. "Cas…" he said aimlessly.

"Do you not find me trustworthy, Dean?" Castiel asked softly, searching his friend's green eyes for something, anything to help him understand his reluctance.

"I," Dean tried to say, choking on the words, panic building at a steady rate. "I don't want you to hate me," he confessed, clenching his jaw to keep from tearing up. He was not going to cry. He was not going to let himself cry in front of Castiel. Even if he couldn't have him, he had to believe he could be strong for him. How else was he going to keep protecting him?

"Nothing that you say," the angel began quietly, his chest twinging oddly with that bizarre _love_ he couldn't help feeling around this human, "could make me hate you." And it was true. Castiel firmly believed there was nothing on this earth that could make him stop loving his best friend. Not even if he confessed to loving someone else. Not even if he confessed to murdering a thousand people. Not even if he confessed to practicing black magic. All of these things seemed highly unlikely, for he knew Dean Winchester too well, but the point remained the same: his love was unconditional.

Dean let out a disbelieving laugh, forcing himself to sit up, though he didn't fight the touch of Castiel's wing still on his face. "I trust you, Cas," he said uneasily, his voice uneven as he focused on not losing control. "I trust you more than I trust myself," the blonde confessed with another false laugh, bringing a hand to his face to rub at his temples. When his friend leaned closer, close enough that all it would take was a turn of his head to kiss him, close enough that his cool breath made the hairs on the back of his neck tickle, Dean was sure he'd lose any sanity he had left. He was getting harder already just thinking about the possibility of pinning the angel to the ground and forcibly stealing his first kiss, which further proved his point to himself. Why did he have to have so many fucking _feelings_? He hated feelings. They were totally unmanly. He took a moment to try thinking of huge turn-offs like Ke$ha's sing-talking and saggy old men in speedos. "I trust you more than I trust Sammy," he admitted in nearly a whisper.

This was an enormous thing to say for Dean. His little brother was practically his life, not counting Castiel. He loved that boy genius almost as if he was his own son. It was a strong attachment, and Castiel immediately knew it took serious devotion for Dean to say he trusted him more than he trusted Sam. Castiel felt warmth flood his cheeks, an uncommon reaction for him to have to anything. It took effort to make Castiel "King of Awkward" Novak blush like he was. Thankfully, Dean dared to look over at this opportune moment, and he caught this rare, embarrassed surprise on the angel's face. He was unable to suppress a small smirk. It was so precious, so flawless on his pale face, that Dean almost attacked him right there.

"I… Dean, that is very kind of you," Castiel murmured shyly, lowering his face and bringing his wings back toward his body. Dean missed the sensation of the feathers on his face, but couldn't move, his eyes locked on his best friend's abnormal expression. "I… I trust you with my life," the brunette admitted in return, blush intensifying.

Dean really didn't know what to say to that, though he couldn't say he didn't already know it. He watched as Castiel's wings folded closely around him, halfway shielding him in a layer of darkness as if he was making a shell around himself. Dean couldn't help but smirk a little at this painfully endearing movement, and he let himself reach up and pull down gently on the supernatural appendage blocking Castiel from view. Castiel didn't fight it, looking up as Dean peeked over the top of his wing with smiling green eyes. "Promise you won't tell?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer. Not once had Castiel ever betrayed his confidence. He was hardly even capable of telling a white lie. The angel nodded slowly, hugging his knees and never letting their gazes break. The oldest Winchester thought distantly that it was like being thirteen again, especially with all the particularly cute things Cas was doing. "Cas, I…" he tried, biting his lip and taking a deep breath. "Cas, I think I like guys …"

Castiel blinked. "Is… is that all?" he asked in his unrevealing tone, though the message seemed clear.

Dean was still anticipating a stronger reaction. "Y-yeah," he lied. _I think I'm gay for you, especially you!_ he screamed in his head. This was as embarrassing as hell. And he hadn't even said it all.

Castiel's blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew when people lied to him. It was easy to tell with humans. They all had tells, many of them similar, and Dean had the habit of tapping his fingers on his leg whenever he lied to him. It was unique to his lies to Castiel, however, considering only his heartbeat changed when he lied to others. But now Dean's fingers were drumming on his thigh and his heart rate was heightened. Dean might be able to look him in the eye and lie, but he wasn't going to get away with it.

"I thought you said that you trusted me," Castiel murmured almost sadly, disappointed his best friend didn't want to tell him everything. He didn't suspect he was lying about being interested in men, but that wasn't all, and the angel wanted the whole truth. He felt almost rejected. Sighing slightly, he buried his face in his knees and instinctively brought his wings tighter around himself.

The dark blonde knew this was one of Castiel's more emotional moments, one of the few times he felt truly human, and he recognized the feeling of rejection himself as his friend's wings closed him off further. Guilt slammed into him, and his heart throbbed briefly with need. He needed Cas, needed him to feel important, needed to _feel_ him. His pulse sped up, and he gently pried open the angel's wings, Cas squirming at the hands brushing his feathers, and slipped himself inside the cocoon of shadows, curling up as his friend had and grabbing his shoulders lightly. "Cas?" he said carefully, dropping one hand so he wouldn't seem forceful. He might protect Castiel, but angels were stronger than humans, and he could easily overpower him if he didn't want to be touched, and Dean didn't want to make things worse. "Cas, look at me, c'mon," he begged, near desperation.

Castiel shifted slightly, lifting his face enough to meet Dean's apologetic gaze with shining eyes. He was on the brink of tears, overwhelmed with those silly human emotions he'd been gathering all these years. He reveled in the combination of pain and joy that he felt mixed inside of him when Dean looked at him, that _love_ thing that he adored somehow, that the blonde made him experience. His heart ached, and he felt so _human_ it simultaneously scared and elated him. Gabriel had warned him that clinging to a human would have negative effects, that he had a hard enough time falling in love with a goddess, but Castiel had secretly desired the adventure. Dean Winchester was an adventure. The angel had thought that he would never know love as a human did, but now, as he stared at this sarcastic, hardheaded boy before him, he knew that's what this love was. It was terrible, tragic, devastating, and beautiful all at once. Once again, Castiel was in awe of Dean.

Dean smiled sheepishly at the angel's unerring blue, steeling himself for hopefully anything as he dared to move his hand to Cas's face and hold it there against his cool, smooth skin. The angel blinked silently up at him, expectant. "Cas, I—truth is," he began self-consciously, speaking quickly. "Truth is, I'm not sure how to tell you the whole truth." Okay. Good so far. He wasn't lying or anything.

Castiel's brow furrowed in unfairly adorable confusion. "Dean, I don't understand."

"Will you stop saying my _name_, for Chrissake," Dean groaned, moving to lean forward on his knees, grinding his teeth for some semblance of control over himself. Castiel stared him down relentlessly. What was he waiting for? "Cas, I think I like you… like that."

For a long moment, Castiel just sat there with his face in Dean's hand, staring up at him like he hadn't heard a word he'd said. Dean was on edge, moving his hand from his friend's face, ready to be flat-out rejected when he felt Castiel's hand on his, bringing it back to his face. His breath hitched, and at first he wasn't sure if he was going to choke on it or not, but then Castiel spoke.

"Like… this?" Castiel pushed himself up enough to make Dean fall back on his ass in surprise. Undeterred, Cas climbed over his lap and leaned into the stricken human, eyes never leaving Dean's. He paused, honestly unsure of what he was doing, exchanging heated breaths with his best friend as their heart rates skyrocketed, an unfamiliar giddiness gripping his heart. "D—" he almost said, but was interrupted by the blonde's lips crashing into his before he could finish.

A surge of energy rushed through the boys' veins, and no sooner had they closed their eyes had they fallen to the earth, Dean half dragging Castiel on top of him, hands tangled in his dark, messy hair and tugging at his nerdy oxford shirt as if gripping it would magically take it off. Castiel had his own slender fingers threading through the human's short hair desperately, as if looking for an anchor he didn't want to find. Dean especially was hyperaware of Castiel's thigh pressing against his hard-on, Castiel himself beginning to press back against his own leg. Thrilled at this mutual hunger, Dean groaned at the friction, jeans seemingly shrinking at an alarming rate as he plunged inside his friend's mouth. Castiel was sloppy, but Dean had always liked being the one to teach people how to kiss, and besides – inexperience was hot.

A flap of wings brought Dean back to reality for a moment, and he broke their much-needed kiss for both air and to find out what was happening. Castiel was above him, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes and breathing heavily, untidy hair even more haphazard. His wings were unfurled, stretched out behind him on full display, waving slightly with the angel's breathing. Dean was so enthralled in the frightening beauty of this sight that he almost forgot what they had been doing. Castiel seemed to think something was wrong.

"Dean?" he asked uncertainly, close to worried.

The dark blonde blinked, grinning up at the gorgeous creature and pulling on his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. He began to push himself upright, holding onto the small of Castiel's back so he wouldn't get the wrong idea. Dean carefully moved his hands toward Cas's wings, trailing up his back and stopping at their bases nervously. He knew from teasing him dozens of times that his wings were quite sensitive, and after a moment's deliberation and a throaty moan from Castiel, Dean let himself carefully maneuver his hands along the bottom edges of the angel's black wings, brushing against protruding feathers and earning a surprised jolt from the brunette. Cas pulled back slightly, smiling and cringing and blushing vibrantly, and Dean grinned again, smoothing over the feathers to get a small gasp out of him. He eased the smaller male back, onto the ground with his wings splayed on the grass again, and steadily climbed over him, slowing their kisses to draw out their pleasure and making a point of rubbing his knee against Castiel's crotch.

"I think I," Castiel breathed in between kisses, his body thrumming with energy, "I think I am in love with you, Dean."

"I love you, Cas," Dean murmured, brushing dark hair out of the angel's face and kissing his forehead tenderly before moving back to his lips with a sigh.

Shadowy wings encased them, and Dean shuddered at the sensation of them touching him so lightly again. He was so glad Castiel was comfortable with his wings around him, because now they were even more beautiful to him. Castiel was happy, immensely happy, and he wasn't sure if this was going to come crashing down on him afterward or not, but he didn't care. He had Dean now, right here, under the stars, and neither of them hesitated to explore, no longer worried about rejection, too busy breathing each other in.


End file.
